


bittersweet

by voldymorts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voldymorts/pseuds/voldymorts
Summary: When a new red-haired boy starts working at the cafe, Hermione is sure he's an idiot, but there's just something about him she can't stay away from. Will these two find love among the coffee and cream, or will the taste be too bitter to swallow?





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione had been working at the cafe for a few months now. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but when Minerva had asked her to join the staff she couldn’t say no. She had been coming for years, browsing the meticulously sorted shelves with a mug of hot chocolate in hand before settling down at a corner table to start the day’s homework. She knew the menu by heart, and she had the regulars’ orders written on a chart taped to the counter by the espresso machine. 

Hermione tied her apron around her waist, quickly punching in to start her shift. 

“Hi, er, I’m Ronald. I mean, Ron. Ron Weasley.” She nearly lept out of her skin at the lanky redhead standing right behind her. 

“Hermione,” she snapped, annoyed at herself for jumping. “You’ve got a bit of dirt on your nose.” She couldn’t help but notice how blue his eyes were.

“Oh...I’ll just, um, grab my apron then,” Ron’s face turned almost as red as his hair as he shuffled around, wiping at the side of his nose.

That day, the new boy managed to spill milk all over the floor, mess up an espresso (how he managed that, Hermione wasn’t sure), wedge the cash register closed, and burn his hand with hot coffee. He claimed he “got distracted,” which Hermione thought was a load of baloney. What could have possibly distracted him in a coffee shop? What an idiot. He seemed kind though, always trying to make the customers laugh, and that smile--no. No. She was not attracted to idiot dirty-nose boy. She shook her head and returned to scrubbing the counter with new vigor. 

. . .


	2. Chapter 2

“That’s NOT what I ordered,” a middle-aged woman with bleached yellow hair glared at Hermione, tapping her foot impatiently. “I asked specifically for an iced coffee, not whatever this cold brew nonsense is,” she scoffed. 

“Cold brew is coffee that was prepared in a cold environment and then we add ice. Iced coffee is hot coffee that has ice added to it,” Hermione’s patience was wearing thin. All morning it been one angry customer after another. “They’re essentially the same thing, but we only carry cold brew.”

“I don’t care what the difference is, I want an iced coffee or I want my money back!” the woman’s face was beginning to go an alarming shade of purple. “The customer service at this place is unreal. Where is your manager, let me speak to the manager RIGHT NOW,” the woman gestured wildly, searching for the mythical manager that would solve all of her problems. 

Hermione put on her best customer service smile. “She’s in the back, I’ll be just a moment.”

“Unbelievable. That’s what happens when you hire people of her kind. Better off staying in their own country if you ask me,” the woman muttered to her husband just loudly enough to ensure Hermione heard. 

She made it as far as the freezer room before collapsing to the ground in heaving sobs. God, why were people like this! It would have been fine if the coffee had been the only problem, but then she had to go and make it personal. She couldn’t help the way she looked, couldn’t hide the cloud of kinky curls on her head or her skin that matched the color of the coffee beans. They took one look and they judged, they hated, and there was nothing she could do. She was utterly powerless.

Hermione heard two soft taps at the door and a freckle-faced boy peered around the corner. “Hey, I heard what happened. You okay?” She stifled a sob in response. “That lady had the attitude of a grizzly bear,” Ron said, sliding onto the floor next to her and passing her a napkin. “And not the cute fluffy ones, more like the ones that rip your face off and leave you for the birds.” 

“That’s disgusting,” Hermione sniffled.

“Sure would be a shame if someone sweetened her dumbass iced coffee with a shit ton of artificial sweeteners known for making you, well, shit yourself,” he turned to look at her and gave her a smug smile. “No pun intended.”

“You could get fired for that, you know.” Sniff

“Yeah well, she deserved it after what she said to you. Fucking racist.”

“You-- sniff-- you heard that?”

“Course I heard that. Nearly took her bloody head off, too, but I had to settle for mild poisoning.”

“You didn’t have to do that, I can handle it.” Sniff. “It’s not like that was the first time I’ve heard it.” Sniff. “I’m handling it.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, handing her another napkin. “And besides, I couldn’t let her just walk out the door.” Ron began tearing the remaining napkin to angry shreds. “Someone had to teach that bitch a lesson.” He hesitated.

“I know it’s not the same by any means, but growing up my family didn’t exactly have a lot of money.” Now out of napkins, Ron picked up a discarded straw and began bending it around his fingers. “And kids are mean, you know? Took one look at my torn jeans and worn hoodie and they may as well have taken me out with the rubbish.” He turned his attention away from the straw. God, his eyes were so blue. “No one deserves to feel less than human, especially not in the way that bitch wanted. So yeah, I did have to do that.”

He slowly got up from the freezer floor, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m going back out there before I freeze my ass off. You just had to pick the bloody freezer.” Hermione cracked a tiny smile and wiped the last of the tears from her face. Maybe this Ron guy wasn’t so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

The line of customers waiting at the pickup station was quickly approaching critical levels. She hadn’t worked with the new guy since the day of the freezer, and it was Ron’s first day working the drink station instead of the register. It was not going well. Poor guy couldn’t tell a latte from a cappuccino. 

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh FUCK!” Hermione heard a loud crunch and whipped around to find a wide-eyed Ron frantically trying to stop the flow of ice cubes spilling from the dispenser. His jammed his hands underneath the mouth of the machine and ice filled them almost instantly. “Shishitshitshitshit!” he muttered as he dumped the handfuls of collected ice on the floor in favor of violently pumping the machine lever. A small icy mountain was beginning to form around his feet.

“Uh, I’ll be right back,” Hermione hoped the elderly man in the middle of ordering his breakfast wasn’t a yeller. “It’ll be just a second.” She hurried over to where Ron was now watching helplessly as ice continued to pour from the machine. 

“Sometimes it just--” she pushed the lever up into the machine wiggled it around. “--slips out of place.” Hermione heard a soft click as the lever fell back into place. A few stray cubes plinked onto the ice mountain.”Should be good now.” Ron’s ears had gone very pink. “It happened to me on my first day, too. All cool.” Hermione kicked herself silently. “All cool.” Idiot.

“You should probably go get that,” he uttered sheepishly, wiping his sopping hands on his apron. He nodded towards the counter where the old man still waited. Ron’s face still matched nicely with his hair.

Later as Hermione headed to hang her apron in the breakroom, she found Ron about to clock out. “Hey, I realize I didn’t thank you earlier. You’re a real lifesaver,” Ron said, the tips of his ears going pink again. “Thought for sure that guy was gonna let me have it if he didn’t get his frappa-mocha-shit me-chino in the next twelve seconds.”

“No problem. I wasn’t gonna let you drown in ice cubes, would have been far too much work to clean up.”

He snorted and headed towards the door. “Good to know I mean so much to you.”

. . .


	4. Chapter 4

They talked more often after that, about uni and life back home and bad impressions of rude customers. Minerva told them they “bickered like an old couple,” but talking to him was just so...easy. It felt right. They understood each other, somehow, despite being so different. She learned he was in his second year, still undecided, but he knew he wanted to work with people and maybe start his own shop. He had a large family (six siblings!), and his mother apparently made the best blueberry muffins in the world. She told him about wanting to go to medical school (“No wonder you’ve always got your nose in a book.”) and how she didn’t speak to her family much but she hopes that they’re doing okay.

Ron was completely obsessed with football. He watched every match with his phone snuck out on the counter. Before Ron, the most Hermione knew about football was that you had to kick the ball in the goal. She still didn’t care for the sport, but Ron looked so happy when he talked about it. When he asked her what on earth she does if she doesn’t care for sports, she told him about her favorite books. He didn’t seem very interested, but a few days later she saw him putting Pride and Prejudice back into his backpack. She couldn’t help but smile.

. . .

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Hermione nearly dropped the mug she was placing in the cupboard. “It reminds me of when I first met my wife,” Minerva continued rubbing down the counter, and if she noticed Hermione’s reaction she hid it well. “People like that don’t come along very often.” Minerva finished tidying and headed towards the kitchen, “Don’t let him slip away.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Try this one, will ya?” Ron handed Hermione a steaming mug of something topped with an ungodly amount of whipped cream and drank from his own, equally whipped-creamed mug.

Hermione took a sip and swore she could feel entire grains of sugar on her teeth. “Do you always insist on mutilating your coffee like this?”

“Listen, that bean-y shit tastes like burnt soil,” he said, whipped cream perched on the tip of his nose. “If I wanted to eat dirt I’d lick Professor Snape’s hair.”

Hermione snorted. The cafe had been exceptionally slow today-- only a handful of regulars came in-- which usually would have prompted her to pull out her laptop and reorganize her lecture notes. She had tried, actually. Ron shot her with the sink spray nozzle as soon as he saw her try to escape. Asshole. 

“Try mine then, and if you think it tastes like burnt soil I’ll buy you lunch.” She inhaled the scent of the mug next to her, breathing in the warm smell of cinnamon and cloves and coffee beans. “Here.”

“See, now I definitely won’t like it because I know you’ll buy me lunch,” he said, taking the mug from her. He sniffed and his nose scrunched up. “What’d you put in here, my mum’s scented candle collection?”

“Shut up and drink it.”

He took a sip. His face gave away nothing. “Well? What do you think?”

Ron shrugged. “All in all, could be worse, though it is missing a little something.”

She gave him a look. “And what could that possibly be, Ronald?” Hermione had hardly finished speaking and when Ron emptied half a can of whipped cream on top of his mug. 

“Perfect. Now, what was that you said about lunch?”

“Ron, I am not buying you lunch after you just admitted that you would skew your reply given the incentive of free food.”

“Okay, so you’re a liar and a terrible barista. I see.”

“Am not! You just have the taste buds of a four-year-old and the morals of a snake!”

“Hey! Don’t come for my taste buds! You’ve gone too far with that one!”

Ron whipped around and grabbed a full can of whipped cream. Before Hermione had time to react, he aimed it straight at her face and pushed the trigger. 

“RONALD! HOW DARE YOU!” Whipped cream slopped down her face into her gaping mouth, flooding it with sickening sweetness.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit, this was a mistake wasn’t it,” Ron backed away slowly, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

Hermione turned, her eyes lowered. Damn that boy. Now concerned, Ron lowered his weapon and moved toward her. “You good, ‘Mione? I was just playing, I didn’t mean any--”

“YOU’RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT ONE, RONALD!” Hermione whirled, grabbing another can of cream and dousing Ron’s chest. 

“FUCK!” Ron laughed and jumped backwards to avoid the stream, only managing to cover his arms in the sugar. “Damn it, I should have known, did Ginny teach me nothing?” He retaliated with a squirt to her legs that missed and plopped to the floor.

Hermione was laughing now, all pretense of hurt gone as she hit him squarely in the face with a fat glob of cream. She squealed and dodged as he covered her hair in sugary clouds. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” Hermione lunged towards him and her feet slipped from beneath her. Ron’s hand shot out and grasped her arm to steady her, and suddenly she found their faces mere inches apart. Whipped cream covered his nose and jawline, a few stray puffs standing out against his red hair. His deep blue eyes met hers and he held her gaze, his other arm reaching around her waist. She could count the freckles on his cheekbones. They reminded her of tiny stars. Time slowed down as his lips met hers, the taste of whipped cream and coffee melting onto her tongue. They slowly pulled apart, Ron’s arm still around her waist, unable to hide his smile. She looked into his deep blue eyes,

“What was that you said about lunch?


End file.
